Chapter 40: Morg’s United Front (1)
The morning dawned.
Last night. Vikir had slept in the pavilion across the street from the city magistrate's office after his night shift.
Knowing that, the Chihuahua had been there early in the morning.
"Hey, sleepy assistant magistrate. The sun is already up, it's ti for you to go to work...uhhhhhhhh!?"
After knocking on the door, the Chihuahua didn't get to finish his morning greeting before letting out a grotesque scream.
There was blood everywhere.
Blood, blood, blood, soaking down the white bedspread and staining the marble tiles on the floor in a grid-like pattern.
The walls, the ceiling, the bed, all drenched in blood.
"Ah. Good morning, sir."
Vikir gets up from the bed with too much nonchalance.
Judging by his sleepy expression, he really was asleep just a mont ago.
And on the bed beneath him lies a corpse, head and torso separated.
A dagger is clutched in the hand of a black-cloaked man, clearly an assassin.
Vikir looked at the assassin's body on the floor.
"Hmm? I don't rember him, he must have killed
in my sleep."
"Zee, is that true?"
"Of course not. It's a lighthearted joke."
Vikir tried to make a joke of his own, thinking, "Wouldn't a 15-year-old be this playful?" but the Chihuahua didn't seem to realize it was a joke in the first place.
"So, Your Excellency..., what kind of childhood did you have back ho?"
"Was it not much fun?"
"No, it wasn't a matter of fun...."
The Chihuahua seed in many ways at a loss for words.
Vikir shook his head in disbelief.
"I've been getting a lot of these flies lately."
Two poisoned arrows, four poisoned glasses, six street burying attacks, stabbings, sulfuric acid spraying, sniping, arson, carriage ramming, etc.....
All in the last three days.
This was the first assassin to enter his bedroom, but even he was no match for Vikir.
Every warrior who had lived through the Age of Destruction had mastered the art of sensing the killing around them in their sleep, and Vikir was no different.
"Hmph. I guess I should look on the bright side. It ans I'm getting noticed, right?"
"You've got so nerve, man."
"You're disrespectful to your superiors, sir."
I retorted nonchalantly and turned to put on my robe.
The Chihuahua stuck out its tongue as Vikir nonchalantly followed her out of the bedroom.
"Looking at you, it's hard to believe you're really 15 years old."
"Where's the blood in that?"
"Even if it is Baskerville blood... I an, weren't the rest of the Baskervilles like this in the first place, and the previous Archon was...."
The Chihuahua continued to babble, but Vikir was already tuning out his words.
Instead, his mind was on the payoff from his last illegal auction house heist.
/ Awl
-1 slot: Burn – Cerberus (A )
-2 slot: Choke – Infernal Buffalo (A)
Slot -3: Bleed – Hellhound (B )
Magic Sword Beelzebub.
This strange blade, which drains and absorbs the abilities of those it kills, was sealed with the power of Murcielago the Infernal Buffalo, a beast you t at the auction house so ti ago.
The troll's C -ranked danger ability, Super Rapid Regeneration, was gone, replaced by the infernal buffalo's Tight Throat Breath.
While "Super Fast Regeneration" is an ability to quickly heal an injured body, "Tough Breath" is much more versatile, as it makes the body so tough and hard that it cannot be injured in the first place.
In the first place, the Infernal Buffalo was a high-level beast that couldn't even be compared to a troll, so it was no wonder its effects were superior.
'I didn't know there was a Class A demonic corpse in the auction house, I'm lucky.'
After consuming it, he was able to easily defeat the assassin who ca yesterday.
The assassin who had infiltrated the palace last night was a Gradual.
Even though he was only a low ranked Gradual, I rembered that he produced an aura that was as sticky as liquid.
It was an unexpected attack, and the dagger slightly pierced my chest.
But thanks to a synergistic combination of the protection of the River Styx and the hardiness of the Infernal Buffalo, Vikir's body was left with only a faint scar.
The assassin himself would not have known.
"Mu, whose body is so hard...!?
Little did he know that this would be his last words.
"I'm going to find out who's behind these assassins and put them out of business."
"That makes sense."
In fact, though he hadn't told the Chihuahua, Vikir was thinking of resigning from his position as deputy magistrate after this job was done.
Just like Xindiwendi had told him not long ago.
Just then.
Sothing happened to help Vikir's plans.
The call ca from Baskerville itself.
A huge black carriage stood in front of the city hall.
A luxury carriage emblazoned with the Baskervilles' toothy logo.
Visiting the town hall early in the morning was a man Vicky knew well.
Deacon John Barrymore, who had co to see Vikir personally.
"Master. Long ti no see."
"I see, Deacon. You look better."
Deacon Barrymore bead at Vikir's response.
"Look at that. Didn't I tell you when you left the main house that you would do well?"
The rumors of the outside world had reached the main house.
They were all about the underdog city's new deputy magistrate.
"Lucky in many ways. The timing was right."
But the rumor-monger himself remains uncharacteristically modest.
Deacon Barrymore then revealed the reason for his visit.
"My lord is looking for you. Presumably, he wants an accurate report on this incident."
"If it was a report, I would have already submitted it in writing."
"Haha, is that the sa as having your son co and tell you in person?"
After speaking, Barrymore stroked his mustache and narrowed his eyes.
"You're so excited. I've never seen you smile like that before."
* * *
Hugo Les Baskervilles.
He was still sitting at his patriarch's desk, his face expressionless.
But Vikir could sense an alien aura emanating from him.
It was.
"...Well done, son."
It was uncharacteristically warm.
Hugo set today's morning paper down on his desk.
.
.
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